


The Beauty is a Beast

by OrangeColoredSky



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Brotherly Angst, F/M, Growing Up, Old Wounds, finding each other, return to winterfell, season three complient
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-11-15 09:43:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11228376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrangeColoredSky/pseuds/OrangeColoredSky
Summary: It has been two and a half years since Gendry Waters made an assisted escape from the woman in Red. He is now 19 and trying to forget about his past. However, he can't shake the feeling of what now would be Arya Stark. A 15 year old Assassin, whom made her own Dead Pool and refuses to stop until every last name is crossed off.They come to find one another again. But is she the same girl he remembered and cared for. Or is she something completely diabolical. Can one act of true love be the one thing standing in the way of her happiness or her downfall?





	1. Prologue

The Beauty is a Beast - Prologue

Gendry wasn’t quite sure when she started to become the focal point in his dreams again. Somehow in the past few months she came up like a phantom. He had always had her in the back of his mind, since he was sold to the Red Wench by the brotherhood.

At first, she was the only positive thought on his mind. But, after his aided escape the thought of her – her steel gray eyes, her short brown hair, her un-lady like being – had been pushed back. In her place were thoughts of survival and an attempt to move on from his past.

She had laid dormant for nearly two and a half years, until recently when he began hearing whispers about a young woman slaying highborn leaders. One being Walder Frey, a man who had murdered Catelyn and Robb stark in cold blood. Gendry was certain that this Lord would have made it onto her Deadpool.

He often found himself curious about how she was. What would she look like? Was she the same blunt girl he had met years ago, traveling to the wall on the king’s road. He had a feeling that she had grown to be much more than that.

Gendry was now with a guild of traveling merchants. Selling blunt weaponry to small village residents as means of security through the long winter. They were nearly to Winterfell when it started to snow. He had never witnessed a snow fall in all his nineteen years. Like her, it was breathe-taking. Like magic was falling from the sky.

Would he see her again? The little wolf with the heart and mind of iron? Her soul molded in vengeance. Did he even want to see her again? To feel the same feelings, he felt when he was but a boy? Feelings of hope, safety, protective, fondness, and even affection. She was the only person he had ever met that he gave a damb about. Before the road and after. Just her. Only her. He knew who his father was, he could care less. All his half siblings were presumed dead in their slaughter. Tomen was the only highborn brother he had left. Though he had heard the rumors about the young king’s parentage. Gendry didn’t care one way or the other.

He was used and abused his whole life, he was accustomed to it. He told himself never to get attached. Because nothing was permanent. Everyone lies, everyone cheats, everyone dies. And not a single soul had proved him wrong.

Except Arya Stark.


	2. Sanguinans Ruby

Blood splattered on the stone below her. The skin around the man’s neck had cut as easy as warmed butter. Falling to the ground with his eyes glazed over, Arya smirked at herself. “Valar morghulis”.

                The man wasn’t one of hers, but she was hired to kill him. For pocket change she took names. Names of men she did not know. She barley remembered his name, just the amount she would receive. I was enough to get her through the next few weeks, for her journey back to Winterfell.

                It had been years – to which she had lost count – since she had been there, she wondered if too much time had passed.

                “A girl must pace herself, a girl will wear down.” Arya whipped her head towards the voice.

                “Aye. But this is not a man’s business.” She was tired of him, Jaqen H’ghar, constantly finding himself in her space. Since leaving Braavos, she wished to sever all ties to the man without a face, a no one. He was a thorn in her side. Yes, she was grateful for all he had done for her. It was time for him to let her go. He knew as much.

                She thought of her sister and brother. The only other two remaining in the house of Stark. She heard whispers over the past year. Jon was not a bastard at all, but a Targaryen. She had no idea how that was possible, but she had a feeling it had to be true.

                “I must see what has become of my home.” Jaqen understood, he couldn’t help but be proud of her.

                “A time has come for a girl named Arya to finish what she started. For a girl has a higher calling, some ones to love.” His eyes were sullen. Arya’s face read with gratitude. “A girl must go, this has to be goodbye.” She held out her hand, Jaqen held his out in mirror; fingertips touching. The gesture lingered for a moment, then Arya stepped away. She turned to her dapple gray, and mounted her to take off in a trot. She did not look back.

                “Valor morghulis.” The red and white-haired man whispered after her. “Farewell Arya Stark.”

**Gendry**

It had been difficult to find a forge that would allow for Gendry and his guild to work in. Especially since they didn’t intend to stay in one place for long. Mainly they traded labor for a day or so’s use. Just enough time to re-stock on weapons.

                Business was fair, he always made enough to keep going. To survive. The other men were pleasant enough. It was a man named Madden who invited Gendry to join the rag-tag group.

                _“Ever thought about being a merchant, boy?” Madden had asked upon entering the small forge that Gendry took up work. Back in Pentos, near the sea. “You do a fine job with that hammer of yours. Aye, a fine job indeed.”_

_“Never had the chance.” Gendry responded, eyes crystal blue peering through the soot and sweat that coated his face._

_“Well, now yeh do.”_

Coming back to Westros was difficult to say the least. All the awful things that had happened there in his short life were nothing less than inhumane. He was almost murdered there. _Twice_. The first was strictly ‘cause he was the baseborn son of a young tavern girl and the late King Robert Baratheon. The second was also because of his lineage. However, it was his uncle Stannis Baratheon’s wench that wanted to sacrifice him for her god, by burning him at the steak.

                Gendry has no with, nor ever, to die at the hands of a highborn, wench, or otherwise.

                “Eye Gen!” The voice of one of his guild ‘mates’ broke him out of his trance. “We be near.”

                They had been traveling for almost a day and a half, with their destination laying in Winter Town. However, they had to stop at an Inn. The cold being too brisk to continue of make camp.

                Gendry hopped off his steed. A percheron, possibly, splashed with black. He needed to bring up the rear when they stop. Thieves were now his enemy. Not the Gold-Cloaks, nor the King’s Guard. He was now destined to keep the first watch when they arrived.

                “The boy never speaks.” One of the new recruits, Flamb, noted to another fellow guild member.

                “Rarley, don’t know what he’s sav ‘in his breath for.” Another member, Crutis, replied. A comical feel behind his own breath. “Madden knows how to choose ‘em.”

                “Where from?”

                “Dust filled old smithy, back on the shores of Pentos.”

                “Bet he’s never known a winter in all ‘is life.”

                “Oi, if he hasn’t he will soon enough.”

                Though the two spoke in near whispers, Gendry could hear them. It was true, he almost always remained dumb. Partially because he hadn’t anything to say, and partial because being silent allowed for the knowledge of secrets. Secrets that could become useful.

**Arya**

                Arya cantered up to the tree-brake leading to a tavern in Winter Town. She normally would find a tree trunk to climb and sleep in. Though the further north she got, the more she remembered about frost bite and winter’s lung.

                Sliding off her horse she flew up the crimson hood of her cloak. She had taken to wearing it some time ago, as a reminder that she was an assassin. Men in Braavos had took to calling her the ‘red nightmare’. It also slowly became a reminder of Melassandre, the whore wench whom bought her friend. Rumors of his gruesome death spread. Arya vowed to not ride without it until the Red Wench was burned, just like her Gendry: the only family she had left.

                She tucked her long braid into her hood. She could still get mistaken for a man if she was careful enough. Not that she was worried for herself.

                The place was dim lit. the wall candles seemed to float as the large fire became lazy with every soul who wondered in. Nobody seemed to notice as she walked through the fading crowd on her way to the purchase a room for the evening.

                “I need a room.” She told the girl with a corset a size too small, hair mussed beyond repair.

                “That would be one dragon, lad.” The girl didn’t bother to look at Arya directly.

                She dug into the pocket of her brown leather breeches and tossed the coin onto the bench.

                “Oi! This one ain’t no lad!” The drunk sitting next to her had saw a flash of her figure with the movement of her cloak.

                The tavern girl snapped her head to them and eyed Arya up and down. “Jim! Y’er right!” She was astonished. Arya hated when people did this, bluntly stare at her for waring men’s cloths.

                “Pardon miss. But a young maid like you should have a man, an escort. Being in these parts alone could get yee raped. Especially dressed like that.” The girl blurted out.

                The man ‘Jim’ took his nasty, earth covered hand and placed it at the small of Arya’s back.

                “I could protect you.” He grinned with yellow teeth and shit smelling breath. “Got a fine arse on you too.” His hand slid down.

                “Don’t touch me.” She commanded with a hoarse voice, shifting so that he was no longer touching her.

                “Oh, come now.” Jim brought his lips to her ear. “Bet you’ve never had the pleasure of being with a real man.” He looked from her face to her chest and back again. “Or any man.”

                Arya was fed-up. Her face burned as hot as the candles with annoyance. “I said, Don…”

                “Don’t you think you’re a bit close there Jim? She clearly finds you revolting.” A man from behind them interjected.

                “Oh I didn’t mean no harm… just hav ’in a bit-o-fun is all.” He stroked down Arya’s cheek. “Ain’t that right Little Red.” Arya slapped his hand away and shot an eye full of daggers at him. Jim’s hands raised up in defeat. “you know where to find me if yah changer yer mind.” He walked away, Leaving Arya to settle down.

                “Sorry about ‘im, gets a bit nasty when he’s had too much.” The man who interjected a moment ago said, sitting down next to Arya and ordered two beers. “Here, on me.” He slid one to her.

                Arya bit her tongue to stop herself from blowing up. “Look. I didn’t need an… y…” she had turned so that she was facing him. Stopping mid-sentence because she was looking at a ghost. She was met with unkept black hair covering Bluer than Blue eyes – soul piercing eyes.

                “You?” She whispered so he barley heard her. Her heart was beating at an exponential rate, a wave of emotions crashing down. “But you’re…”

                “Dead?” He responded, kindness and worry swelling in his eyes. “Surprise! Turns out I’m not that easy to kill. I…”

                Arya then did something very uncharacteristic of her. She leapt forward into his arms, her hood falling as she did so. “You’re alive!” He could hear sobs from his chest as her protectively, possessively wrapped his arms around her. “… Gendry.”

                “I’m here, I’m ok.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for all the positive feedback on the Prologue. I'm not sure how fast this will update, but I'm fired up to continue!


	3. Stone

Preasegmen Stone

                He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Gendry was sure that the woman sitting at the tavern bench was Arya Stark. What other woman would wear a man’s clothing like that. She looked stunning, with the same pale skin and large set eyes.

                He had witnessed Jim, another fellow merchant, man handle her backside and whispered vulgar things into her ear. He was half expecting Arya to punch the man out, but she only tensed and gritted her teeth. Gendry was taken back by her reaction when he defended her, again he was expecting an act of violence at him or at least call him ‘stupid’, like she used to when they were children. Instead, she flung herself into his grasp with a sob escaping her lips.

                As he held her close he could feel the curves of a woman, which to be expected for a maiden her age. She was grown now, no longer the scrawny little girl posing as a boy. Gendry buried his face into the slope of her neck and in-hailed her joy. They were home again. Feeling the tear drops soak through the fabric of his chest he withdrew, but only a bit, to see her eyes.

                “Where have you been?” Arya asked, using her tunic sleeve to wipe the tears for her eyes. “I thought that the Red Wench had killed you, burned you alive.”

                Gendry didn’t want to talk about the horrible experience he had after they parted. He didn’t want to talk about his escape. He wanted to stay there, in that moment, for a moment longer; before the reality of everything comes crashing back down.

                “Later.” He responded, easily being able to tell that something was wrong. Arya Stark does cry. Not even for him.

                She didn’t speak. Arya wanted to tell him how lonely the winter had been, how much it pained her to be without him or her family. Because, she didn’t think that she had missed him this much.

                “It’s ok, little wolf, I have you.” Gendry pulled her back into his arms, stroking the back of her hair, which was falling from her messy braid.

                On the other side of the tavern Madden and his guild were drinking, some were watching Gendry with amused faces.

                “Never seen ‘im take to a lass like that.” Crutis stated, taking a swig from his mug of beer. “Normally, he ignores ‘em.”

                “I think she’s more than just _some lass_. Think he knows her?” Flamb asked, jealous that none of the tavern girls paid him any attention. The girls weren’t paying any of them attention.

                “That may be, but best we leave them alone. He’ll say something if she’s important.” Madden had come up behind them, not making a noise. His brought arms were crossed and a slight smirk rode on his beard covered face.

                Flamb nearly fell out of his seat. Fear burst from his chest. “Gods! You could’ve killed me.” He held his hand over his heart and breathed heavily.

                “Such drama Flamb.” Another member laughed, raising his mug to them.

                “Here’s your key miss.” The bench girl held out an old, rusted key. She said it loud enough to break Arya from her trance. She muttered a ‘thank you’ but refused to release from Gendry’s grasp.

                Gendry rolled his eyes at her and took the key himself. “Com’on Arry, I believe you are spent.” There was a cat call from the guild as he took Arya’s hand to lead her away from the tavern and up the stairs.

                The room was not unlike most small inn’s. It was lit by several small candles placed by the window, just above the bed, if you could even call the lump hay stuffed into a sack a bed. The fur that was draped atop it was covered in a thin layer of dust, had not been used recently. Arya sat herself down on the bear pelt, rubbing her eyes from tiredness as she did so. She unclasped her cloak to place it beside her.

                “You didn’t have to walk me up here.” She commented after Gendry sat down next to her.

                He responded with a sorrow tone, “Don’t be stupid”. The childishness that came from his words brought back so much more than he intended.

She looked up at him, a glint of innocence returning into her gaze. “As I recall, you’re the stupid one.”

He smiled as she did. The worries about her began to melt. Maybe she was ‘ok’ – if that word even meant anything anymore – with how long the winter had dragged on.

“I’m glad to see you safe.” Well, relatively safe.

The brightness in her face dulled. She glanced up at the handful of candles, slowly burning out. “I wouldn’t say that.”

Gendry wondered if she had been alone all this time. “Where were you?” He asked, rubbing his thumb over the back of her tensely placed hand. She hardened at his question.

Arya wasn’t sure if she wanted to tell him what she had been through. Yet or if at all. Should she mention Braavos? The House of Black and White? What about the countless men she had killed? ‘No’ She shook her head at her thoughts. ‘I’ve just found him. I don’t want to frighten him off.’

“Hiding.” She stated, lips pierced and gazing at the dirty, sand covered floor. It was a lie, and she remembered how Gendry could tell if she lied. “After the Hound took me from the brotherhood, he meant to sell me for ransom to my mother’s sister, Lysa. I got away before we reached the Vale.”

Gendry nodded. “I see.” He knew she was skimming on details. She always tried to hide what she wouldn’t say. He knew she wasn’t being completely truthful. He wasn’t even sure himself, though, if he wanted to know what she had gone through to get where they are.

Arya continued with her fake explanation. “I posed as an orphan. A girl named Nan, from the free cities.” She held back from grinding her teeth, something she normally did when she was lying.

Obviously, Gendry remembered this about her as well. He didn’t believe her story for a second. However, he could tell that the truth would have to be prayed from her. Being on her bad side wasn’t on his wish list. “Hu, never knew you to be one to tuck your tail between your legs.

Arya inhaled heavy and shrugged, “War does things to people, changes them.”

“Aye, that’s for certain.” He agreed, retracting his hand from her grasp. “I best be going.”

Gendry went to stand up, but she had grasped the back of his shirt in retaliation. “Stay.” She commanded in a whisper. “Please.” Arya wanted to know, that in the morning, this wasn’t a dream. To know that he was in fact alive. She didn’t want to go back to the nightmare that was her life without him.

He didn’t say a thing. Gendry took off his shoes and sat back down next to her. She took off hers as well and unsheathed the throwing knife attached to her thigh. He wasn’t surprised to see hidden weapons on her person. She sat needle down by her other things, and laid down on her side; scrunched up in the fetal position. Gendry looked down at her, deciding which position would be less intrusive.

                “Gen,” Arya’s tired eyes pierced into his. “I’m not going to bite you.” Her fist curled into his shirt, dragging him down next to her. Gendry cradled her in his arms. Her face tucked into his chest and her legs tangled with his.

                They stayed like that through the night, falling asleep to each other’s calming breaths.


	4. Sapphire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gendry and Arya reach Winterfell, memories seep into her mind.

Arya took Gendry up on his offer to join his guild to Winterfell the next morning. She originally wanted to say ‘no’ and that she preferred to go along, like she had been for the past few years. But she was nervous about going “Home” as it was and decided that having him with her would ease her anxiety.

                It was odd to be traveling with a group that large. Though only a total of 13, including herself and Gendry. She had taken to riding in the back behind the guild’s supplies wagon. Gendry was riding some ways ahead, parallel to Madden; whom she was sure the guild’s leader and possibly the founder. He was a strange man, acting like a parent to his members; watching over them. It seemed to be working, they were a well put together group, at least of what she had witnessed.

                She found herself reminiscing through the trees and pathway of her childhood. This was the road she had taken many times with her mother or father to Winter Town. Normally for reasons of high command, for which she only had interest if it were business of her father’s. Looking back, she wished she would have taken more of an interest in her mother’s doing’s. Maybe she would have had more to hold onto of her mother than just her constant mutterings of Arya being “The beast of a daughter”.

                “Nearly there! Just up this hill.” Madden shouted from up ahead. Arya was too far in her thoughts to notice how close they had come to their destination.

                She was scared. It had been about four years since she had been to Winterfell, her home. She barley wanted to look, she had half a mind to turn around and forget the whole thing. Her family wouldn’t be there and as far as she knew, it would be a ghost town. There had been rumors across Westros, about the shell of a place it used to be.

                Above her, a few meters away, Gendry had stopped his mare and was looking back at her. A look of comfort read on his tanned face.

                “Oh seven,” Arya mumbled. ‘He must be able to see it.’ She held her breath and stopped her own stallion up next to him. She wanted to close her eyes, not wanting to look in the correct direction below them. “How bad is it?”

                “Not as I would have imagined. But that’s not saying much, first time being here and all.” He reached his rough hand out and bulled aside her hood to look at her face. “It will be ok, I promise, Arya. I’m here for you, whatever happens.”      

                Her body warmed as he touched her face. She knew that if this turned out to be a shit show, she at least could walk away and he wouldn’t hesitate to leave her side. Arya trusted him, sometimes more than she could trust herself. Slowly, she gazed down at the town below.

                “Oh…” She whispered breathily. It by far wasn’t the way she had left it. The sight reminded her of their time in Harrenhall, minus the smell of rotten death. No, it was too cold for that. The stone entrance had been reduced to rubble, and what looked like two small burned bodies lay half under the remains.

                “Arya…”

                “Gen,” She wanted to gaze at anything else but what was. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to continue.” Arya refused to cry, again, out in the open like that. “My family isn’t there anyways.”

                “I feel like you wouldn’t have travel all this way if you were just looking for them, you knew that before.” She knew that Gendry never had a home, or anyone he could call family. Unless one were to count the smith’s guild. He had a hard time understanding what she was going through. But he wasn’t in the place to push her to continue if she didn’t want too. “Would you like to go somewhere else instead?”

                “I…” She honestly didn’t know. There were only a couple people left on her list; the red wench and Cersie. Everyone else was either dead or pardoned in her eyes. She didn’t have anywhere else _to_ go. “I guess I should at least look around?” Maybeshe could find something to hold on to, to remember them by. To remember Jon, Rob, Sansa, Bran, father, Mother, or even little Rickon. He little brother’s soft, baby-like features flashed into her mind. ‘No’ she told herself, ‘save that for later’.

                Gendry nodded, not wanting to say anything to sway her decision. He knew she needed this, if only it was for the closure. They rode forward to where the rest of the guild was setting up camp next to the old smithy, which looked as if it hadn’t been used in years.

                “How are we looking?” Gendry asked Crutis, whom was exiting the building.

                “It’s usable, if that’s what you’re on about.” He clapped the dust from his dirty, black hands.

                “Fantastic”

                It was the same smith where Jon had her sword, needle, forged. She clung her hand to the hilt of it at the memory of the moment: “First lesion, stick ‘em with the pointy end.” She smiled whole heartedly at the thought.

                “I’m going to look around.” Arya said, clasping Gendry’s wrist briefly before letting go.

                He wanted to tag along, not wanting to leave her alone. However, he knew that this was something she had to do on her own. He stayed put, watching her walk away, worrying about her as she entered the ruins of the old castle.

**Arya**

                She held her breath. The massive front door of her childhood home was unhinged, allowing the cold winter air to blow inside. Otherwise, the exterior looked as if it was untouched.  Arya could almost feel her siblings’ former presence as she walked through.

                Dust covered nearly every square inch of surface. The servant’s quarters were the only place that looked even remotely used, only the beds though. The massive kitchen and dining areas were the worst. There were so many places for spiders to crawl in and make their homes. And that was exactly what she had found. Cobwebs sealed off nearly every nook and hole available.

                Arya had briefly stopped in front of her parents’ bed chamber door. Debating if she should venture inside. ‘But what would I find? Mother’s old sewing things I would imagine.’ Deciding against going further, it was too soon for empty memories, she ventured up the stairs. She be-lined strait to her old bed quarters, going past her siblings’ in a blur. She hesitated for a moment at her door. Would it feel the same? Would it smell the same? Had it been ransacked by thieves? The anxiety was making her head spin.

                Arya pushed open the large wooden door, revealing the life that had since been taken. It remained the same. The bed was made, with Nymeria’s sheep skin bed at the foot of it. Even the silver combs her mother had gifted her on her tenth name-day had not moved. She walked carefully over to the bed and perched herself at the end. She reached over for one of the hair pieces and held it to her chest. If one paid close enough attention, the smell of Sansa’s bottle musk still wafted in the air.

                There was a certain was a certain peace in the air. Her bed was still soft, and the feeling was warm. She eventually lulled herself to a peaceful sleep, her head resting on her old feather pillow.


	5. Onyx

 

Arya had fallen asleep. Atop her bed, curled in a ball, feeling the remains of her old life. Her old life. By the time her eyes popped open the sun had set. She felt well rested, except a faint kink in her neck.

                “Finally, you’ve been out for a while.” Arya jumped from the bed, searching her person for needle. It wasn’t until she saw his bright eyes, she realized she was safe. Gendry was by her side.

                “By seven!” she shouted at him. “I could have killed you! You stupid, stupid man!”

                “But you wouldn’t have,” he stated when she lowered her weapon. “I wouldn’t have let you.”

                Arya raised an eyebrow at him. “is there something going on I should know about?” _Why would he come looking for me?_ She asked in her mind. He knew she could handle herself. Gendry also knew where she had gone.

                “A raven came, for all of Winterfell.” He pulled a note from his coat. “I’m positive you’re going to want to read this.”

                She took it from his hands. As she read it carefully, he watched as her large eyes. He watched as a look of relief and surprised creeped over her features. “My sister…”

                “Is on her way,” Gendry finished, hopeful to her taking the news well.

                “She escaped… I thought she would be dead by now.”

                “Apparently you Starks are hard to kill.”

                _Not all of us_ , she thought of Rob and her parents. “Two days’ time, she will be here.” It had been years and yet a couple of days suddenly seemed just as distant. What do you say to someone you grew up with and you know now will be a stranger?

                “You alright with this?” Gendry searched her face for a clue. For the expression she bore was now bland and cold.

                “I wish I could say I am happy.” It was no secret that Sansa wasn’t her favorite sibling. _Oh John_.

                “You wish it was your brother. Don’t you?”

                It had been an emotional couple of days. The tears held at the surface and one slips. “I do.”

                Arya reached out and pulled his massive figure into hers. “I’m tired, so very tired.” Not of fighting. But of thinking. About her family, who they all used to be. Did Sansa being alive mean that so were Bran and Rickon? John? Her heart was swelling.

                Gendry played with the ends of her hair.  “At least she’s alive.”

                “But _what_ is she?” Arya was fearful of her sister. Did she even want the old Sansa back? The shallow, throne-seeking girl she had pushed so far back into her memories she had once forgotten. No, she didn’t. She hoped _that_ Sansa he long crumbled away.

                “I wouldn’t know.” Arya smiled at the uselessness in his comment.

                “I… just stay close to me, ok?” Obviously, she didn’t need protection, but Gendry might. Her sister wouldn’t be coming alone. Who knew what sort of company she kept. “I need to know where you are. I won’t lose you, again.”

                “Always.” He leaned down, nestled his nose into her dark hair and kissed her forehead. “I told you, I will never leave you.”         They spent the night in her old feather bed. Gendry slept soundly with Arya curled on his chest. She stayed awake till nearly dawn broke through. Going through about a hundred different scenarios on what the following days would bring.

 

                The next two days brought on a type of peace that Arya wasn’t sure how to feel about. But she fell into place none the less.

                She spent the morning with the people. Her people. Fixing fences and harvesting the season’s crops. They remembered her, and were grateful for her interest in aiding them. some recalled moments from those years past and how the ‘princess’ would trail around her brothers, wearing the cloths of a boy and playing in the dirt with her direwolf.

                Arya was rather found of those memories. Their stories seemed to heal her beaten soul. For she had missed the people of Winterfell. Their kindness and smiles. They made her forget the hardships, the blood on her hands. Both of what was and what will come.

                In the evenings, she enjoyed sparing with the able smiths. She had beaten them all. Except Gendry, but they more just danced around each other than training. She was growing on them just as much as they she.

                “Who would have guessed a lady be so skilled. And with such a small weapon as that.” Crutis commented after falling in defeat at her feet.

                Arya held out her hand to help the man at least twice her size to his feet. “I would not have survived this far without.”

                “Who taught you how?” He asked, scratching his patchy head.

                “Oh, no one.” She replied a genuine smile plastered. Thinking of Sirio, a Jaquen, and her father.

                She shared her supper with them as well, by Gendry’s side. With subtle touches. Arya enjoys speaking with Madden. Whom was not unlike Yoren. Just as rugged, but also with the same kindness touching his heart for the men whom followed his cause.

                She had almost forgotten about the arrival of Sansa. Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so... what did you think? anything you would like to see play out?


End file.
